


Phoenix Down

by moodiful819



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, F/M, Hospitalization, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren keeps making mistakes, Kylo Ren makes some mistakes, Loss of Limbs, Protective Kylo Ren, Redemption is a long hard road, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodiful819/pseuds/moodiful819
Summary: Kylo makes the fatal mistake of shooting the Falcon out of the sky.





	Phoenix Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LueurdeLaube](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LueurdeLaube/gifts).



> Based on the prompt by LueurdeLaube
> 
> “ Ok but someone needs to write the falcon getting shot down, rey surviving and Kylo having the biggest panic attack in the history of panic attacks as he frantically gathers rey into his arms and nurses her back to health”

They find her on the scanner before he finds her through the force.

They do a fly-by of the wreckage of the Falcon. For years, he imagined how sweet it would be to see that worthless piece of junk finally blown into the dust where it belonged...

But that was before he knew she was on it and _\--he didn’t know. he didn’t know he didn’t knowhedidn’tknow--_

The shot had already pierced the gunner seat in the Falcon before he could rescind the order and he watched the Falcon groan and spiral its way into the ground.

The flight over is bittersweet as they scan for signs of life. The thermal reader is clouded with readings from the burning wreckage and the faint smell of oil burning in the salt reaches them from the outside. The Falcon’s cockpit is crumpled and juts from the planet like the rib of a broken saucer to the west, while the gunner seat litters the ground like a dropped egg.

When they find her, she is nothing more than faint readings of blue and aqua in the outline of a person.

He doesn’t remember if he gives the order to land. He doesn’t wait anyway--just freezes the engines and pulls them towards the planet with enough control to take them back up later.

He doesn’t even wait for the landing dock to fully extend before he’s running out into the salt, hoping he is not too late.

She lies battered and bleeding in a small crater. Burns criss-cross her shoulders and creep up the side of her scalp like an angry wave. Her arms and legs are shattered; her breath is a thin rattling rasp in broken cage of bones; she is hanging on by the smallest thread to the Force, and it is all his fault.

The rational part of him tells him to wait for the stretcher and medical droids he ordered before he disembarked, but he’s already gathered her up in his arms--feels the unnatural shift of her bones against him as he sobs against her skin that _he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to do this--to hurt her--and that he swears to fix it._

When they reboard his ship, he orders them back to the nearest FO cruiser with a functional medical bay and silences Hux’s challenge with a ghostly grip at his throat. The Rebels will be stuck on Crait without the Falcon. Even if they hunker down and bury themselves in the ground, they are still sitting ducks--and he has more pressing matters to attend to. 

The flight crew wisely say nothing.

* * *

He sits near her whenever he can. In the two months since the Falcon was shot down, he does not think he has been able to breathe. Though the scans show differently, he feels as if his heart has stopped and plummeted into the ground with her when she crashed.

Carefully, he strokes the soft downy hair that is beginning to regrow on her head. He has taken it upon himself to smear the bacta on her burns and prides himself slightly on how well she is healing on her head. 

He doesn’t dare look down though. It would mean facing the shiny metal filaments of her artificial limbs. Only her left arm remains her own; everything else could not be saved. He doesn’t know how she’ll respond to that.

He is in the middle of reading a holodoc and absentmindedly stroking her hand when he feels her reconnect fully with the Force. The reader drops onto the floor, forgotten, as Rey slowly flutters her eyes open and gags against the tube in her mouth.

A med droid picks up on the change in readings and comes in to check on her condition. As she slowly gathers her surroundings, she makes a gurgle that sounds faintly like his name.

“You’re on a cruiser getting medical treatment. You were shot down with the Falcon and we picked you up.” He holds her good hand and studies the burn that snakes across her forearm. If the Rebels had just surrendered and submitted to the inevitable, none of this would have ever happened. She would have never been placed in danger. He would have never shot her down.

“Don’t you worry, Rey,” he reassures. In the new order they create, she will never want for anything. She will have the finest limbs crafted for her and peace and glory will be restored. The lies of the old age will finally be put to rest and a new age of Enlightenment will emerge through their combined powers.

But first, he has some matters to address. “I will make the Rebels pay for putting you in danger,” he promises. “You will never have to worry about them again.”

Rey makes a sound of protest against her tube, but the droid puts her under again as he orders. She has just woken up and needs more time to rest and adjust to the demands of her new situation. She will come around in time. He will protect her as he has promised, and lingers in the doorway to make sure Rey is sound asleep before leaving.

Now to tie up some loose ends.


End file.
